


Harden Your Heart Against the Night

by Ciridae



Series: Bonds That Build, Bonds That Break [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts Second Year, Slytherin Harry, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Slytherin Ron Weasley, Slytherin Trio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2018-12-08 11:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11646054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciridae/pseuds/Ciridae
Summary: Returning to Hogwarts slightly more learned but not quite civilized the trio face enemies, friends and problems new and old.





	1. Chapter One

   The summer that Harry turned twelve began almost exactly the same as every other one before it.  
   He spent his days trying to finish what seemed to be a nearly endless list of chores, weeding and cleaning and cooking until he nearly dropped from fatigue. He got Sundays off while the Dursleys went to church and he would wander the neighborhood, occasionally getting chased by other kids who didn't like how he looked or thought it would be sporting to see how fast he could run from their fists. His skin darkened even more and new freckles made their home on his face and arms and even back as the long hours in the garden added up. Overall it was a mind-numbingly boring summer.  
   Except, that is, for the magic.  
   The Dursleys had let him keep his school trunk and everything in it in his room--well, it was still more Dudley's trash room, but he slept there so it counted. There were two rules to this agreement: they wanted to see absolutely no evidence that his school or magic existed, and he was not to write or recieve letters from any of 'his kind'. Since he had already warned his friends that he lived in a muggle neighborhood and owls would not be welcomed, as well as letting Hedwig stay with Hagrid for the summer, these were easy things to agree to. He missed his snowy owl and her habit of eating breakfast with him even if he didn't get any mail but it was for the best. After all it wouldn't be fair to lock her up just because he was under restrictions.  
   Tonight, though, Harry couldn't even light a candle and try to work on any of his summer homework. Vernon had some sort of important guest over and Harry couldn't risk it. Not that Vernon would bring his guests upstairs where they could possibly see him.  
   But, well. Better safe than sorry. So Harry lay very quietly on the floor, trying not to fall asleep, and listened to the quiet sound of people talking downstairs. His mind was on his homework, though, and whether or not he should rewrite the essay for Snape. Harry couldn't be classified as a bookworm but being almost totally deprived of his magic had made him desperate to cling to what he could. And so he spent every spare moment reading more and more and writing and rewriting essays. He had a lengthy list of questions to ask Hermione, and a smaller list of questions to ask Ron, and things he had read that he thought they or Blaise or even Daphne would be interested in. He craved any sort of magic like an addict deprived of their drugs.  
   There was a soft, almost imperceptible _pop!_ and Harry opened his eyes. Nothing changed in the conversation downstairs that he could hear so he sat up, wondering if he had imagined it. Harry had to clap a hand over his mouth, though, as he came face-to-face with a rather strange looking creature.  
    After a moment in which he wondered if he was about to have a heart attack Harry identified the creature as a house elf. It was a bit more bug-eyed than others, and quite a bit closer than Harry had experience with. Which, really, wasn't a surprise. What was a surprise was that the elf was here at all.  
   "Um," Harry said, trying to be quiet, "can I help you?"  
   At this the elf burst into tears.  
    "Master Harry Potter sir wants to help Dobby!" the elf exclaimed, much to loudly. "Yous is very kind!" Tears dripped down his nose and he took great shuddering breaths.  
   "Quiet!" Harry hissed, resisting the urge to shake the poor thing. "Please, be quiet!"  
   "Dobby came here to warn Master Harry Potter sir!" Dobby was still sobbing, wringing his hands in his dish-towel toga, but that didn't stop him from speaking at a very loud and shrill tone. "And Master Harry Potter sir wants to help Dobby!"  
   "Quiet, please!" Harry repeated, his heart still beating wildly. "What did you come here to warn me about?"  
   This seemed to calm the elf a bit, as if completing his task would make everything right with the world. "Master Harry Potter sir mustn't go back to Hogwarts, no sir."  
   "Why not?" Harry exclaimed, suddenly not concerned with how loud he was being. Not return to Hogwarts? That would be like asking a mermaid to stay above water the rest of their lives!  
   "It's dangerous!" Dobby shouted back, his crying increasing. "Not safe for Master Harry Potter or his friends, not safe at all!"  
   "I'm sure it'll be fine," Harry replied, scowling. "Please, calm down!"  
   "No Master Harry Potter, it won't be fine! Yous can't go back to Hogwarts!"  
   Harry winced as the elf suddenly threw himself to the floor, wailing and banging on the wooden boards. There was no way the Dursleys and their guests wouldn't hear that. Harry was suddenly incredibly sure that he wouldn't go to Hogwarts--Vernon would kill him first.  
    "Shhh, be quiet!" Harry hissed, panic rising. "I won't go to Hogwarts, I promise, okay? Just, please, be quiet!"  
   Dobby suddenly sat up, his cries falling silent as he stared at Harry with tear-filled eyes. "Master Harry Potter sir won't be returning to Hogwarts?" The elf hiccuped, a sad little noise that somehow drew attention to how snotty and tear-streaked his face with.  
   "No, I won't," Harry said, carefully crossing his fingers behind his back. "Thank you for warning me."  
   This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say as Dobby burst into tears again. The small elf began wailing about how Harry was too kind, really, thanking him for doing his job even though Dobby was a bad elf. Harry felt a bit like crying himself. He was going to be in so much trouble.  
   "Dobby," Harry started, trying to at least sound calm, "I think maybe you should return to your home. You've warned me, and I said I will not go to Hogwarts." Of course it took a bit more convincing, but soon enough Dobby was convinced to disappear again. Harry sat on the floor, staring at where the elf had been and wondering exactly how much trouble he was in. He didn't even get around to wondering at who had sent the elf, or why they felt the need to warn him about the dangers of Hogwarts, because all to soon his door was thrown open and Vernon walked in, barely able to speak past his anger.  
   Harry looked at his uncle's face, which was currently becoming a rather unpleasant shade of purple, and sighed. The summer had been going so well until this point.

* * *

 

   In the end it wasn't too bad. Harry was confined to his room with several locks upon the door. Vernon even went so far as to put bars on the windows, which Harry thought was a bit ridiculous. Harry was allowed out twice a day to use the bathroom. At night he was given a single plate of food, generally some sort of tinned soup. Petunia was nice enough to heat it up at the very least, although Harry knew it wasn't really out of kindness. In some ways it was even an improvement. Dudley couldn't reach him in here behind his locks and the Dursleys hadn't taken away his school supplies. He didn't even have any chores although the lack of physical activity was disappointing. There was only so much schoolwork Harry could stand to do. He sorted and re-sorted all of the trash in the room, trying to figure out the best way to get rid of it all. He counted how many steps it took to get from one wall to another, from his bed to the window, from the desk to the door, and then counted them all again. Harry was pretty sure he could draw all the cracks on the ceiling from memory by the time two weeks had passed. He could practically feel himself descending into madness with all the drama and meloncholy of a twelve-year-old boy.  
   Harry was sorting the trash by color (he'd already done alphabetically and by size) when the light appeared outside. Confused, Harry blinked at his window, convinced that he had finally had a complete break from reality. He couldn't really be seeing this, could he?  
   Outside the lights moved, eventually disappearing from his window. Harry blinked away the afterimage and frowned. Was that a car? Next to his window? Which was on the second floor and, therefore, not where a car should be?  
   Well, Harry decided, guess I've gone completely mental. There was no reason then to not open the window and lean out, pressing his face against the bars. As soon as he did he could see that three people sat in the car; three people with rather memorable red hair. Ron leaned out of the backseat window and waved.  
   "Hey Harry," he said, grinning. "We're staging a kidnapping."  
   Harry blinked. "That's nice," he said, feeling a stupid grin spread across his own face. "Who've you brought as backup?"  
   "It's like he doesn't even know us," the driver said, shaking his head. "George, I'm hurt."  
   "Thought we agreed you were George for this one," the other boy said.  
   Harry laughed. "Gentlemen," he greeted, tipping an imaginary hat at them. "If you'd be so kind to remove these bars, I'll grab my things and help you with the whole kidnapping thing. I'll accept no less than half the ransom, though."  
   "Did you hear that Ronniekins? The little snake wants half! Half! Preposterous!" Fred shouted to the sky. "George, I can't work in these conditions."  
   "Too bad," Ron said, disappearing momentarily. "Did Dad leave that chain up there?"  
   "Indeed he did," George replied. All three brothers were smiling in a downright wicked manner. "Let's see if we can't get rid of those bars. You might want to stand back, Harry."  
   Harry did step back, watching for a second as Ron wound the chain securely around the bars. Then he began to scramble around, gathering his school supplies into his trunk. He had no real idea how he would get the trunk through the window, much less into the car, but he might as well be prepared. Especially as the sounds of Vernon waking up became evident through the wall.  
   "Hurry!" Harry commanded, glancing nervously at the door. He did not want to be in the room when Vernon got there. The Weasleys picked up the pace, Ron quickly finishing tying off the chain. The car disappeared momentarily and then reappeared. With a resounding crack! the bars and, really, the entire window and a bit of the wall was pulled free to hang from the back of the car. There was no way that Vernon wasn't awake now. Half the neighborhood had probably been woken up by the ruckus they were causing.  
   "Come on mate, throw the trunk in the boot!" Ron called. Fred-or George, maybe-popped the boot open and backed the car up so that Harry could heave his trunk into it. As he slammed the boot shut again his door opened, banging against the wall.  
   "What do you think you are doing boy?" Vernon shouted.  
   Harry made the mistake of turning to look at his uncle. The man advanced towards him, rage evident in every step, and Harry scrambled to get out the window. There was a moment when the car dipped and he had to scramble for a hand hold just as Vernon reached him. Vernon grabbed for Harry's leg but missed as the car jolted forward, bringing Harry out of reach. Laughing in triumph, the twins made some rather rude gestures out the window as the car flew off. Harry, shaking with relief, managed to climb into the backseat with Ron.  
   "Mum invited you to come to Diagon Alley with us," Ron said, removing the chain to drop over the English countryside. "Figured we'd deliver the invitation in person."  
   "Thanks," Harry said, grinning with the adventure of it all.  
   "Don't mention it," Fred said from the front seat.  
   "Really," George said. "Don't mention it. Dad doesn't know we took the car."

* * *

  
   The Weasley's house was nothing like Harry had expected. Ron affectionately referred to it as the Burrow but not a single room was underground. Rather it rose several stories up in an impossible manner, with balconies and widow's walks in strange places. In the early morning light it looked like something straight out of a fairytale. Fred guided the car down to the lawn and then drove around back where a rather large shed stood. The twins grabbed Harry's trunk, refusing any offer of help, and took off towards the house.  
   "You'll be in my room," Ron said, gesturing at Harry to follow. "We can get a bit of sleep before Mum wakes us up for breakfast. Come on."  
   Harry followed Ron into the house and looked around, taking everything in. Ron rarely spoke of his home at length, much like Harry, and it was obvious why. This was not the house of a wealthy family. Or, at least, not a monetarily wealthy family. Harry had no doubt that the Weasleys were perfectly happy and wealthy in other ways. But money meant something, especially in Slytherin, and not having it meant just as much as having it. Harry felt the weight of his parent's vault as he climbed the rickety wooden stairs to Ron's blindingly orange room. He refrained from making any comment, though, instead opting to pass out next to Ron on the rather large bed.  
   It seemed like the next instant someone was banging on the door. "Time to wake up, Ronald!" a woman called. Harry groaned and tried to burrow deeper into the blankets. "Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes!"  
   The promise of breakfast was enough to get Ron out of bed and Harry followed behind. People were running up and down the stairs, the cacaphony of early morning somehow louder here. Down in the kitchen it was practically a free for all. Harry slipped into a seat between Ron and Fred and watched the proceedings as he served himself eggs and bacon.  
   "Arthur, dear, you're going to be late for work."  
   "I still have some time, Molly," Arthur replied, not even looking up from his paper. "My alarm hasn't gone off yet."  
   "Hey Dad, anything interesting happen at work lately?" Fred asked, reaching across Harry to grab a pot of jam.  
   "Yesterday we had someone turn over some enchanted items," Arthur replied. "A fellytone, and something called a come-powter."  
   "An enchanted telephone?" Harry asked. He stole the jam from Fred and stuck his tongue out when the older boy made an affronted noise.  
   "Yes, yes, a fellytone! The muggles use them to make floo calls, I believe," Arthur said, and then paused. The newspaper lowered and he looked at Harry, then glanced around the table, obviously counting the amount of children present. "Who're you then, lad?"  
   "Harry," Ron supplied around a mouthful of hash.  
   "Harry Potter!" George shouted, just as Ron's sister entered the room. The girl stopped, staring at Harry, then blushed a deep red and left the room. Harry frowned.  
   "Call me Molly, dear." The witch finally sat down and then shot accusing looks at the twins. "And how did you get here?"  
   "Oh, my relatives dropped me off," Harry said quickly. "Did Ron not give you my letter?"  
   "What letter?" Ron whispered, not quite awake enough to be making up cover stories. Harry elbowed him. "Oh, yeah, that letter! He said he'd be arriving today but real early, like, stupid early, since his uncle has to go to work all day and they only have the one car."  
   "Ron," Molly admonished, shaking her head. "Don't speak with food in your mouth. And you're always welcome here, Harry. As good a friend as you've been to Ron it would be a crime to turn you away."  
   Harry blushed, glad it didn't really show, and shoved a large piece of toast into his mouth. The rest of breakfast passed quietly, if one could ever describe the twins as quiet. They seemed intent on making their brother Percy go completely mad before noon. Ginny eventually resurfaced but couldn't make eye contact with Harry without turning a rather embarrassing shade of red. All in all, Harry decided, it was a wonderful breakfast.  
   It was a wonderful morning, really, and bled into a wonderful afternoon. They rounded up enough old brooms to play a game of Quidditch, albeit missing most of the players. It was really just pass-the-quaffle with keepers. Ron showed Harry around, the old brooms more than serviceable for a tour of the land. For lunch there was sandwiches and homemade chips and then it was back outside. Harry couldn't remember ever having days like this where nothing important was happening and yet he was never bored, or stuck doing chores, or sitting in his room hoping not to be noticed.  
   Dinner was a boisterous affair. Arthur regaled them all with tales from work, including rumours from the Auror department, and the twins snuck a hair changing potion into Percy's drink. Harry ate more food than he thought he could and studiously watched his own drink to make sure the twins didn't fuss with it. Ginny even managed to look at him for a whole minute before blushing. He smiled at her, noticing that she was kind of pretty, in the way eleven-year-old girls sometimes were, all thin angles and freckles.  
   "Have you got all your summer work done?" Molly asked as dinner wound to an end. "Ron, Harry, do you need any parchment or anything?"  
   "I'm mostly done, thanks," Harry said. "I just need to finish my History essay."  
   Ron groaned. "I forgot all about that. Reckon Hermione has some ideas?"  
   "Not like you can just ask her," Harry said, shrugging.  
   "There's a fellytone in the center of town."  
   "Telephone."  
   "Ronald Weasley, you will do your own work!" Molly admonished. "Don't go bothering that nice girl over essays you should be writing."  
   Harry looked at Ron. "Did Hermione meet your parents?" he asked, barely above a whisper. Ron nodded.  
   "At the platform. I thought mum would try and bring her home with us."  
   "What are you two whispering about?" Fred asked, leaning so that his head was right above theirs. "If there's mischief afoot I want in."  
   "Same," George said, raising his hand. "No mischief without us!"  
   "It would be better if there was no mischief at all," Percy droned. He still wasn't aware that his hair was a rather lovely shade of blue, and nobody at the table, not even his parents, seemed about to tell him.  
   "That's no fun," George replied.  
   "Fun-killer."  
   "We find you guilty of murder in the first degree!"  
   "The victim: any sense of humour you may have once had." Fred threw part of a roll at his brother. This, apparently, was the cue for Molly to intervene. Within five minutes Percy's hair was back to normal, everyone's dishes were in the sink, and they had somehow been convinced to play pick-up-sticks of all games. It was a bit more exciting than the muggle version since every now and then the sticks would explode, but still. Molly just had a way about her where you found yourself following her suggestions as if they were orders.  
   Harry went to bed with a smile, and he wasn't sure if it would ever go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be continuing this series a bit longer, at least until the end of book two--my most hated book in all honesty. Updates will be slow and sporadic.


	2. Chapter Two

   The rest of the summer passed in a similar lackadaisical manner. Harry learned how to swim in the small cowpond near the Burrow. He and Ron even worked up the courage to call Hermione on the public telephone, walking all by themselves to the center of town. She rattled on about homework for a solid ten minutes before asking them when they would be headed to Diagon Alley for supplies. This meant they had to go consult Molly, then walk all the way back down to call Hermione back to set up the meeting. Ron's family was good fun even though the twins were liable to tease them about being in Slytherin. It was never mean-spirited which was quite a relief. Harry had heard harsher words spoken in the Common Room amongst friends. Ginny had eventually gotten over her shyness and would play Quidditch with them (once Molly had put her foot down and made the boys let her), flying so fast and fearlessly that it made all her brothers frantic.   
   Eventually the summer had to end, though. The Weasleys and Harry made their way to Diagon Alley to prepare for the new school year. With Ginny going into first year the Burrow would be empty of children for the first time in nearly twenty years and Molly was obviously taking it hard.   
   "Harry! Ron! Over here!"  
   Harry turned to see Hermione, her hand in the air and waving just like in class. He smiled and walked over to her, noticing two adults who must be her parents with her. "Hey, Hermione. How was your summer?"  
   "Great, you know, we went to France and even visited the magical quarter in Paris! It was simply stunning, and some of the historical events that took place there is incredible. Did you know they still have a king and queen? Completely missed the revolution." Hermione paused to take a breath and calm down. "These are my parents. Mom, Dad, this is Harry and Ron."  
   "Nice to meet you," Harry said, smiling a bit nervously.   
   "Nice to meet you too," Mrs. Granger replied. "Hermione speaks very highly of you."  
   Panicked, Harry looked at Hermione. "What did you tell them?" he hissed as Ron greeted her parents. Hermione rolled her eyes.   
   "Not much, don't worry," she replied. "Just act normal."  
   "Your normal or my normal?" Harry asked.   
   "Any normal."  
   "There you are! Harry, Ron, don't wander off like that!" Molly admonished, coming up behind them. "Hermione, it's lovely to see you again."   
   There was a brief moment of chaos as all of the Weasleys scrambled to be introduced. Eventually Molly took charge and split them into groups--Fred, George, and Percy would go with Arthur, Molly would take Ginny, and Harry, Ron and Hermione were to go with the Grangers. They'd meet up at the bookstore and then go for lunch before returning home. Harry laughed as the twins walked away, teasing Percy about wanting new dress robes.   
   "Well, where to first?" Mr. Granger asked, looking at the children left to his care. The three Slytherins were a bit quieter than the rest of the lot and he rather felt that he had lucked out.   
   "Gringotts," Hermione replied. "We have to exchange money."  
   "And I need to stop by my vault," Harry said. "I hate paying for things with my vault key."   
   "Gringotts it is, then," Mr. Granger replied amiably. "Lead on."  
   The goblin bank was as impressive as ever, and Harry took Ron down to his vault. The ride in the car was far better than any rollercoaster Harry could imagine. He didn't linger long, not wanting Ron to become uncomfortable, but simply filled a bag with money and left. The Grangers stayed in the foyer where they politely argued with the goblins over the exchange rate from pounds to galleons. Hermione had been doing some reading and found that the goblins weren't giving them the fairest of exchange rates.   
   They were efficient in getting their supplies, travelling quickly from one store to another and resisting the urge to linger and gawk. Harry and Hermione banded together to pay for some of Ron's supplies without him noticing (or without him obviously noticing, at least). Mr. and Mrs. Granger seemed content to act as tourists rather than chaperones, allowing the children to show them this small part of their world. Harry, Ron and Hermione were more than happy to answer any questions they had. Several times they stopped and greeted classmates although everyone was so busy getting ready to return to Hogwarts that the conversations never lasted long. They wound up at Flourish & Botts long before any of the other Weasleys and promptly scattered throughout the bookstore. Ron quickly found a section with chess books, Hermione was in heaven in the law and history section, and Harry simply wandered around looking for books with interesting titles. Mr. and Mrs. Granger took advantage of the cafe in the sitting area to rest. They could pass hours in this manner and, in fact, did.  
   "Oh, look, another Weasley."  
   Harry stopped short, frowning. Draco? What was that ponce doing here? Harry would have guessed he simply owl-ordered all his supplies, or perhaps sent a servant to go pick them up. After all the Malfoys couldn't be seen doing something so common as shopping. Harry peered around the corner of a bookshelf and scowled. Malfoy was in the next aisle over and had somehow found Ginny of all people. Now, Harry had once seen Ginny full-on tackle Fred for insulting her clothes, so he wasn't too worried about her ability to defend herself. It was what Malfoy might say that made him a bit nervous.  
   "Yes?" Ginny replied, shifting nervously. Harry noticed she had dirt on her nose which had somehow escaped Molly's eagle eyes.   
   "Really, couldn't your family afford even one set of new robes?" Malfoy drawled. "It's a shame they dress you in boy's clothes."  
   "There you are, Ginny." Arthur appeared from nowhere it seemed and placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Young Master Malfoy."  
   Draco tipped his chin up in a rather snotty manner, his expression taking on a disgusted sneer. "Mr. Weasley."   
   "Draco, don't wander off like that." Lucius Malfoy had the same air of power and grace around him that he had during the New Year's party and Harry envied him for it. The older Malfoy was better at hiding whatever unpleasant opinions of the Weasleys he might have, though, and simply nodded at Arthur and Ginny. "We have to go meet your mother, Draco, or I'm sure she'll work herself into a fuss over our tardiness. Good day."   
   "Good day," Arthur said curtly, his hands curled into fists. The Malfoys breezed past and, just for a moment, Harry could have sworn Lucius held a small black book, right over the cauldron Ginny was holding. It was gone the next moment, though, and Harry decided he must have imagined it. They were in a bookstore after all.   
   "All right, Ginny?" Arthur asked, watching the Malfoys leave. Ginny nodded and Arthur smiled at her, ruffling her hair. "Let's go pay and wait at the front then."   
Harry let them get ahead and then followed. In the hour or so he had been wandering the bookstore someone had set up for a book signing at the front. Quite a lot of reporters were there and Harry ducked behind a stack of books to avoid them. So far he had avoided having a picture in the news, although they wrote quite a lot of sensational (and false) articles about him. The last thing he needed was them to take a picture of him in his second-worst pair of robes, grass stained from Quidditch accidents and stretched out. Harry had dressed for comfort that morning.  
   "There you are, mate," Ron said, grabbing Harry. "Best make a break for it. Did you see Malfoy and his father? Stuck up git. If his nose gets any further in the air his head will detach from his shoulders."  
   "Yeah, I saw them," Harry replied. He grinned. "Leaky Cauldron for lunch, right?"  
   "Probably," Ron replied. "Not much choice here."  
   "Let's go ahead then."  
   "Meet me outside? I'll tell mum." Harry nodded and quickly ducked outside, keeping his head down so that none of the reporters could guess who he was. In a few minutes Ron joined him, this time with Hermione in tow, and they made their way through the crowds to the pub.   
   "Did you hear?" Hermione asked as they got a table.   
   "Hear what?"  
   "Gilderoy Lockhart announced that he's going to be our Defense teacher this year!"  
   "Who?" Harry asked, frowning. The name wasn't familiar.  
   "The man signing books in Flourish & Botts?" Hermione said. "The author of all our Defense books for the year?"  
    "I was wondering why we had to buy so many," Harry said. "Guess he's trying to pad his profits."  
    "If he's done even half of the things he's written about then he's one of the most experienced duelists in the world," Hermione said. "Not to mention his knowledge of magical beasts. With any luck he'll be better than Quirell."  
   "My great aunt Driselda would be better than Quirell," Ron said. "And she's dead."  
    Harry laughed and Hermione rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. "True," she agreed, smiling slightly. "But luckily we won't have to be taught by a corpse."  
    Fred suddenly appeared, dropping into the seat next to Ron and making all three Slytherins jump. "Better leave corpses alone, that's pretty illegal." Percy and Arthur were no where to be seen, although Harry supposed they were simply with Ginny and Molly. If Percy had managed to survive the morning, that was.   
   "And kind of boring," George continued, taking the other empy seat at the table. "Good for a scream, but that's about it."  
   "Now, if you're looking for screams, we can help you out there."  
   "We've got quite a bit of experience, you see."  
   "We'd love to help."  
   "For a fee, of course."  
   "Of course, of course. Nothing is free in this world, after all."  
   "Being quiet is free," Ron grumbled. "Bugger off."  
   "Now is that any way to treat us? Us, your dear brothers?" Fred asked. He clutched at his chest, dramatically laying his other hand across his brow. "I'm wounded, honestly, I can't explain how your words have hurt me!"   
   "How could you!" George exclaimed, also taking a wounded pose. "You, our flesh and blood, asking us to 'bugger off' as you so quaintly put it? The things you are learning in that snake pit you inhabit!"  
   "You two are insufferable," Hermione said, but she was smiling all the same. "Absolutely insufferable."  
   "We'll take that as a compliment," George said. "We've worked hard to reach this level of annoying."  
   "No amateur stuff to be found here, no sirree."   
   "Do you give lessons?" Harry asked, grinning at how ridiculous the two were. He regretted not knowing them earlier; the house seperation kept Ron from introducing his friends to his family.   
   "Only to friends," Fred said, tapping the side of the nose.  
   "Although you're practically family," George continued. "Especially after helping us this morning."  
   "What did you do this morning?" Ron asked, confused. Harry shrugged.  
   "You distracted mum," George said, which was news to Harry. "She's been so busy trying to mother you that she hasn't had time to scold us."  
   "Scold you for what, exactly?"  
   The twins both turned, their grins dropping as their mother appeared behind them, the rest of the Weasleys in tow. Molly glared at the two of them, rather certain that there was something she should be scolding them about but not really sure what it was. Eventually, though, she admitted defeat (for now) and moved to take a seat. "Ginny, dear, could you go find Tom and tell him we're staying for lunch? Oh, Arthur, sit down and stop fussing over Percy's robes! They look fine."  
   The Leaky Cauldron was a busy pub at the quietest of times and now, with the back-to-school rush and the influx of Weasleys (and guests), the place was filled to bursting. Harry felt a bit overwhelmed; the Weasleys didn't let him fade into the background as he had grown accustomed to. Even at Hogwarts people were more likely to whisper about him then try to keep him engaged in the conversation. Harry answered when spoken to and tried to keep his mouth full so that people wouldn't talk to him. Luckily Hermione had gotten started on her trip to France and wasn't showing any signs of slowing down. Mr. and Mrs. Granger kept Arthur busy as he pestered them with questions, asking about all sorts of strange things from the Muggle world. Apparently wizards didn't have rubber ducks, which Harry thought was a bit strange.   
   After lunch they bid Hermione's parents farewell and returned to the Burrow. There was only a week left before the fall term started and Hermione would be staying with them until then, making the already full Burrow fit to bursting. The three Slytherins took advantage of a set of rainy days to have a small study session, going over summer homework and reading. Harry finally got to ask Hermione all of the questions he had stored up (were nifflers native to the UK? What made an Unforgivable Curse an Unforgivable?) and he and Ron ended up playing a few rounds of chess. He still got thoroughly beaten, of course, but Harry felt like he was putting up a bit more of a fight. Eventually the sun returned and they spent every moment they could outside soaking it up, even if all they were doing was sitting around and napping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to update so soon but it is the birthday of our lord and saviour Harry James Potter so uh here you go


	3. Chapter Three

    "Come on, you're gonna make us late!" Hermione pounded on the boys' door and the two of them groaned, trying to burrow deeper into their pillows. The sunlight was barely coming through the curtains and already they'd had several people try to wake them up. Hermione was just the latest, no doubt recruited by Molly. Harry sat up, rubbing at his eyes.   
   "Wake up, Ron," Harry mumbled, shoving his friend. "Breakfast."  
   Even the promise of food didn't cause Ron to stir so Harry shoved him again, then again. Since that didn't work Harry very carefully moved, bracing himself against the wall, and shoved Ron hard enough that the other boy fell out of bed. Ron let out a rather strangled _yelp!_ Harry grabbed his glasses off the side table and sprinted out of the room before Ron could figure out how to get free from the sheets.  
    "Get back here!" Ron shouted after him.    
   "Come and get me!" Harry shouted back, darting around one of the twins. There were several rather mysterious thumping noises from Ron's bedroom. Harry was safely in the kitchen by the time Ron managed to get downstairs, though, so the redhead had to settle for glaring at his friend.  
   "Shove over," Ron grumbled, finding an empty plate.   
   "You already did," Harry retorted, grinning around a mouthful of jam-covered toast.   
   "Prat."  
   "Jerk."  
   "Twit."  
   "Pie-face."  
   "Boys!" Molly glared at the both of them and the two dissolved into giggles. She sighed. "Ginny, are you all packed and ready to go?"  
   "Yes, mum," Ginny replied. She'd borne the brunt of Molly's mothering over the past week and it was obviously taking its toll.  
   "How about you, Hermione, Harry? Need any more time?"   
   "No, thanks," Harry said.  
   "I'm ready to go, thank you," Hermione replied. "Harry, did you read the last chapter last night?"  
   "No, sorry. I'll have it back to you soon, yeah?"  
   "No worries," Hermione said. "Just let me know when you're done, I want to know what you think of the conclusion."  
   "No thoughts about studying!" Fred declared, throwing a piece of toast at Harry. "We'll be back at school soon enough."  
   "Someone should think about studying," Percy said. "Merlin knows you don't."  
   "Hey! I resemble that accusation!" Fred responded, throwing a piece of toast at Percy.   
   "Boys! Calm down and eat your breakfast, don't throw it about!"   
    Fred and George very obviously considered this for about half a moment before Fred grabbed an entire bowl of oatmeal and pitched it at Percy. Percy sputtered, oatmeal dripping onto his nice new robes, and everyone stared. George elbowed his twin, who was second-guessing his decision, and then the two bolted. Molly was hot on their heels, shrieking after them, while Arthur sighed and helped Percy get clean.   
   "Surprised they lasted this long," Ron muttered while Harry tried to decide whether to laugh or not. "They usually make some sort of ruckus in the summer. It's been pretty quite, considering."  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "They could have at least waited until your parents weren't in the room. Not the brightest."  
    "I don't think Fred really thinks those things through," Ron said. "Heat of the moment and all."  
    "Is anyone going to eat the rest of the oatmeal?" Harry asked. Everyone shook their heads so Harry grabbed what had been left behind by the massacre and quickly finished it off.   
   The rest of the morning was relatively quiet if very busy. There were last-minute items to be remembered and shoved into trunks, snacks to be made for the train ride, and clothing to be found from where it had managed to hide over the past month. Harry eventually collapsed on Ron's bed and stared at the painfully orange ceiling. It seemed like it would take all day for the family to be ready to go to the station. Hermione joined him, taking refuge from Ginny's nerves. The two sat in companionable silence, almost asleep, and waited to leave.   
    After a small eternity they were finally all packed up and ready to go. Arthur had cast an expansion charm on the seats of his car and they were all crammed in the back becoming way too acquainted with each other. Harry managed to get a seat near the window by some miracle and spent the entire ride listening to Fred and George argue with Percy while watching the countryside go by. They marched into Kings Cross like a veritable army of redheads, pushing trolleys laden with beat up trunks and animals. Ron's rat, Scabbers, wasn't looking all that good but seemed to be up for another year of lazing about Hogwarts, if not much else.   
    They got into a somewhat orderly line and started passing through the trick wall that led to Platform 9 3/4. Harry could feel excitement bubbling up within him--Hogwarts was so close! He'd already had the best summer of his life and now he was going back to Hogwarts, and he wouldn't even be an ickle firsty this year. Blaise and Daphne were going to be there, and even if he had to put up with Malfoy and Snape it was more than worth it. He couldn't imagine the summer having gone more perfectly.   
    That was until his trolley refused to pass through the barrier.   
   Frowning, Harry stared at the brick wall. He knew it was the right one--Percy had gone ahead of him, along with Ginny and Molly. Ron, Hermione and Arthur were behind him and they certainly seemed to think he was in the right place. Maybe he was doing it wrong? He wasn't running at it like last year. But then again neither had Percy, he had actually walked quite sedately through the brick.  
   "Um," Harry said, turning too look at Arthur. "I think I broke it? Sorry?"  
   "What?" Arthur exclaimed. "Back up a second and let me check."  
   Harry did as he was told. Hermione frowned, watching Arthur check the wall. The brick didn't let him through, either, so at least it wasn't just Harry who was banished from the platform.   
   "That shouldn't happen," Hermione said suddenly. "This platform has been in use for almost two centuries and it's never been closed, not even when the wars were on. Muggle or magical."  
   "Well if I wasn't special before, I guess this is going to make sure of it," Harry sighed. "Boy-Who-Lived Denied Entry. I can see the headlines now."  
   "That's not catchy enough," Hermione replied absently. "Although it does get right to the point."  
   "Wait here, all right?" Arthur said, looking at the three of them. "Right here. Don't move. Molly would have my neck if you got lost. I'll just pop outside and contact the Ministry, see if they know something about this."  
   "Don't worry," Hermione said. "I'll keep my eye on them."  
   "Hermione!" Ron exclaimed as his father walked away. "We aren't kids! We're twelve!"  
   Hermione gave him one of her looks, the prim ones that made you feel like you were two inches tall, and Ron flushed.   
   "Think we'll get out of our summer work if we're late?" Harry asked. He'd never rewritten that essay for Snape and he wasn't feeling too confident about it.  
   "No," Ron grumbled. "Because we're Slytherins, and second years, and also Snape is always angry at us, have you noticed?"  
   "Kind of hard not to notice," Harry said. "My ear hurts whenever I see him."  
   The three lapsed into silence. Harry was nervous--what if this was his fault? He remembered the strange house elf that had gotten him in trouble with the Dursleys and his warning to not return to Hogwarts. And now he'd managed to not only get himself into this strange situation but also Ron and Hermione. The two were always game for adventures but this was more of a fiasco than anything else. He'd been so sure that he was going to have a wonderful year. Hopefully without teachers scheming and trying to kill him, and he'd like less detentions (and homework), but wonderful nonetheless. Now his wonderful year was stalled at the station.  
   "All right, they're sending someone from the Ministry to come inspect the brickwork," Arthur said, returning to the trio. "Molly planned on apparating home--absolutely hates the car, don't know why, it's perfectly safe--so I'll just drive you to Hogsmeade and you can walk to the castle from there."  
   "Thank you," Harry said, relief in every part of his body. So. Only a minor setback, not a major roadblock.  
   "Are we going to fly?" Ron asked. He nearly leapt to his feet in his hurry to get into the flying car--one nighttime adventure didn't exactly sate his appetite for flying. Hermione rolled here eyes--boys and flying. It was almost as bad as muggle boys and cars.  
  "Well, if you don't tell your mother," Arthur asked, looking around as if Molly would suddenly appear and scold him. "I suppose some flying could be arranged. Get all your stuff, then, and we'll be off!"


	4. Chapter Four

   Flying in the car by day was not an improvement, which was disappointing. If anything it was actually less fun than their nighttime escapade.   
   Ron was up front getting the best view. Hermione joined Harry in the backseat but this, unfortunately, did not save her from Arthur's questioning. Both Hermione and Harry had agreed that while Arthur was very well-intentioned a lot of his questions were, well, incredibly patronizing. Like petting a dog on its head for being clever enough to speak (so cute! Look, he knows some tricks!). Hermione couldn't help her need to share knowledge, though, especially with someone who was actually interested in her muggle background. Arthur may never pronounce electricity correctly but Hermione made sure that he knew how it worked. Harry resigned himself to staring out the window which, since they were flying above the cloud coverage, wasn't very interesting.   
   They had a bumpy but safe landing on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Arthur bustled them through the streets and up to the gates of Hogwarts, not giving them time to peer around at the bustling town. Harry stared at everything, wishing he was a year older and allowed to go on Hogsmeade trips. Even quiet and not filled with students the town seemed amazing! They'd certainly arrived long before the Hogwarts Express would, noon had barely come. Snape met them at the gates, his expression one of disdain and anger. Harry stared at his feet and tried not to make eye contact. The entire way over he'd been hoping it wouldn't be Snape that met them at the gates. McGonagall, with her strange looks and severe bun, would have been preferable, even if it might mean a loss of points. Arthur and Snape went through the necessary politeness (all safe, have a good year, goodbye) and then Snape turned his attention to the three students.  
   "I suppose," he drawled, "that arriving as normal students simply wasn't good enough for you?"   
   "No, sir," Harry mumbled.   
   "Speak up, Potter. One would expect you to be a bit louder."  
   "No, sir," Harry repeated, louder this time. "There was something wrong with the entrance to the platform."  
   "Whatever silly excuse you have is of no concern to me. Ten points from each of you, and you'll serve a detention this weekend. Come."  
   The trio followed Snape up the hill to the castle, scowling at his back. "Don't think Fred or George ever got detention before term even started," Ron commented, groaning a bit at the thought. "Wait until mum hears about this."  
   "This is unfair," Hermione muttered. "Mr. Weasley talked with the Ministry and everything. There's absolutely no reason to punish us."  
   "Does it matter?" Harry asked. "It's Snape. He hates us."  
   "I wouldn't say hate," Hermione said. "But he definitely doesn't like us."  
   "It's all your fault, mate," Ron said, shoving Harry's arm. "Getting us into adventures and all that."  
   "Oh, come on, you're responsible for the adventures too."   
   "You give me chocolate frogs when I find you adventures. Can't be blamed."  
   "Will you stop chatting like this is high tea at the Queen's?" Snape snapped from in front of them. "I detest all three of you. In."   
   "I detest you too, sir," Harry mumbled, although he did make sure that Snape wasn't next to him before he did so. No sense in pushing boundaries too far. Snape led them to the Slytherin Common Room where they were told to sit and wait. After roughly thirty seconds Harry decided that sitting in the Common Room was boring and there was no way he was going to waste half a day there. They didn't have anything to work on, the house elves would make sure their trunks were in the right spot, and there weren't even any merfolk at the underwater windows to play charades with.   
   "Harry!" Hermione hissed, seeing him start to leave. "We already lost points."  
   "Snape has better things to do," Harry responded. "It's probably all right."  
   "Professor Snape," Hermione corrected. "And at the very least take your cloak."  
   "Did anyone tell you you're brilliant?" Ron asked her. Hermione scowled.   
   "It doesn't take much to be brilliant when you two are thicker than brick," she replied. "Honestly."  
   "I'm only mildly thicker than mud, thanks," Harry said. "Ron's hopeless though."  
   "You haven't beat me at chess even once!"   
   "So? Everyone gets lucky sometimes."  
   "Apparently not you though, I absolutely slaughtered you last game--"  
   "Are we sneaking out of here or not?" Hermione interrupted.   
   "Uh, yeah, right, that's what we're doing." Harry raced up to his dormitory where the house elves had already placed his trunk. It only took a minute to dig through and find his father's invisibility cloak and then he raced back down. "Do you think Filch keeps to the same corridors even when it's summer?"  
   "Probably," Hermione said. "He seems like a creature of habit."  
   Ron shrugged. "I dunno, he also seems kind of crazy in the paranoid, kid-stalking kind of way."  
   "We need to put new alarm spells up anyways, right?" Harry said. "I mean, we're at Hogwarts. We can do magic now."  
   "Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. "I want to try out a new warding, it's based on some Nordic runes--thanks again for the book, Harry, it's been ever so helpful--and it's supposedly superior to the nursery charms we were using before."  
   "How much time do you need for it?" Harry asked, thinking. They had a few hours until Snape would come and get them for the feast. "And do you have to go outside for anything?"  
   "Not that long, and no, thankfully," Hermione said. "I'm pretty sure it's going to start raining soon. We can go to Filch's office and ward it, and put the normal charms at Snape's doors."  
   "And then to the kitchens," Ron added.   
   "Ok--Filch's office, then Snape's, then the kitchens, then back here before we can lose any more points," Harry said. "Come on."  
   They didn't fit under the cloak quite the same way they had last year. Hermione kept stepping on the back of Harry's shoes and Ron was several centimeters taller than the other two, making it hard to keep their feet covered. After a lot of whispering and one or two well-placed jabs with the elbow and they were under way. Filch's office was only a few staircases away from the Slytherin rooms, so it wasn't too far of a trip to suffer through. They took the cloak off as soon as they reached it, knowing at once that it was unoccupied. Ron and Harry alternated between watching Hermione work and playing a game of chopsticks. Harry was better at this game than he was at chess so it was a bit fairer all around.   
   "Come here a minute," Hermione said, looking back at them. "I need to key you into it. Hopefully everything worked right...."  
   "When was the last time something didn't work right for you?" Harry asked, placing his hand where she showed him to. Ron followed suit so that all three of them had their hands against the door, surrounded by runes.  
   "About three weeks ago," Hermione said. "I set the kitchen on fire trying to make a smoothie."  
   "You what?" Harry asked, but Hermione was already chanting and shot him a glare. Harry fell silent, trying not to imagine his hand going up in flames. That thought came perilously close to the thought of his flesh burning, to the thought of Quirrell burning, and--no. He'd done very well not thinking of it all summer and he wasn't going to start now.   
   So Harry focused instead on the steady rising of Hermione's magic around him. Her magic somehow felt like autumn, a brittleness in the air that promised sleep or death. It suited her and Harry had grown accustomed to it after long hours of practicing spells together. Autumn was a good season for her--the start of school, the last burst of summer before the cold came, but not without its own dangers. He could feel it tugging at his hand like a small breeze and then, suddenly, it was gone--along with all the runes Hermione had so carefully drawn.  
   "There," she said, quite pleased with herself, "now we'll know exactly who is in this room at all times."  
   "That's what that does?" Ron asked. "What if we don't want to know who is in the room?"  
   "You have to do a bit of magic with some parchment," Hermione said. "So don't worry about being annoyed every single time a house elf goes in there to clean. It's just better than our low-level alarms."   
   "Nice," Harry said. "Congrats on making a ward on your first try."  
   "Thanks. Time to go do Snape's rooms."   
   "I'd rather go to the kitchens," Ron mumbled as they stuffed themselves back under the cloak. Harry and Hermione ignored him. Ron always wanted to go to the kitchens.  
   They didn't do any complicated wards at Snape's office or the door to his private potions lab. They couldn't be sure that he wasn't in there and they really didn't want to get caught by him. Although he hadn't explicitly told them not to leave the common room, it didn't take a genius to realize he didn't want them wandering. And besides, he hadn't even been the evil teacher last year! Harry didn't like him, but he had to admit that Snape hadn't actually done anything too bad. So they placed some simple alarms and left it at that before heading to the kitchens. Ron was doomed to be disappointed, it seemed, because the house elves had no time for them--not with a feast to be made! The trio were given a picnic basket and told, quite politely but firmly, to leave. They raced each other up to the Astronomy Tower, where they took up residence in one of the lower rooms. The storm Hermione had seen had finally arrived and stolen the sun away. As they ate they watched the rain pound against the windows.  
    "Do you think the third floor corridor will still be off-limits?" Ron asked.   
    "Maybe?" Harry said. He frowned at the small cherry pastry he held. "I mean, there is a trap door into the dungeons there."  
    "It's not the dungeons," Hermione said. "Just....an unused portion of the school."  
    "It's not a very useful part, anyways. At least not until they change it back into whatever it was before."  
    "They might just have a giant chessboard there all the time," Hermione pointed out. "Wizards are strange."  
    "So're witches," Ron said, scrunching his nose up. "McGonagall probably did the chess set, anyway."  
    "Yeah, Professor Snape definitely made the logic puzzle," Hermione said. "What with the potions and all."  
    "Think Flitwick was the keys," Harry added, thinking back. "And Hagrid was definitely the Cerberus."  
    "Professor Sprout was definitely the Devil's Snare."  
    "That leaves just the mirror."  
    "Mirror?" Ron asked, grabbing another pastry. "What mirror?"  
    "Oh." Harry paused, looking at both of them. "I forgot I never told you. The mirror we found, the one that shows our desires, was at the end."  
    "Oh," Ron said. They all fell silent, thinking of the things the mirror had seemed to promise.   
    Finally, Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. "Anyway, this year we won't get into nearly as many adventures," she said, somehow making it both a threat and a promise. Harry grinned at her.   
    "We're already out of bounds and the welcoming feast hasn't even started," Harry said. "Good luck."  
    Hermione scowled. "The year technically hasn't started. So any rule breaking we do now doesn't count."  
    "Fair," Ron said. "In that case, want to try and break into the Gryffindor common room?"  
    "No," Hermione said instantly. "That one's got a password, just like ours. Ravenclaw's has a riddle, though, we could go poke around in there."  
    "You just want to steal some of their books," Harry teased. Rumor was that the Ravenclaws kept a private library.  
    "Well they might just have something interesting."   
    "Fine, Mione, we can go to the bookworm dorm." Ron shoved a whole pasty into his mouth and then grinned at her. Hermione threw a dirty napkin at him, rolling her eyes.   
   Harry laughed and packed up the picnic basket for the house elves. The storm was still raging on, wind and rain beating against the windows, and it was time to go on an adventure. 

* * *

  
     Snape very carefully finished the formal warning. He had already filled out the forms required for a detention and had dug out all of the old disciplinary reports on the ungodly trio of brats. On top was the warning he had given to Albus last year, with the old man's careless scrawl at the bottom. _Thank you for your concerns, Severus. I will keep my eyes on them._  
    Severus scowled as he saw the note again. Albus hadn't watched them carefully enough and Severus hadn't had the time and this is how it ended up. The trio had ruined all their plans last year, somehow solving puzzles meant to keep out much older and learned persons and meeting with someone possessed by Voldemort of all people. The mere thought of the absolute catastrophe that had been made Severus feel a headache coming on. And now Potter was saying the platform was closed, and Weasley and that impertinent Granger girl were tagging along as always. Severus didn't have time for this. Lucius was up to something and Draco was certain to be his own brand of trouble as soon as the term started. He'd hoped a summer away would make his three least-favorite pupils a bit more palatable but it did not seem to happen.  
    Thus, another warning, and a year of dogging their steps so that they didn't have an option to set a toe over the line. It would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once almost set a kitchen on fire making a smoothie, so it can be done.


	5. Chapter 5

    The trio had found themselves locked out of the Gryffindor common room, although they had managed to find it. The portrait of the rather ample woman who guarded the entrance wasn't tricked by them even though they made sure to hide their Slytherin badges. After a few futile attempts they called it quits and tramped their way over to the Ravenclaw tower, where they spent a most diverting hour getting covered in dust and not finding the dorm entrance.  They'd found the Hufflepuff entrance last year, of course, and made a quick detour to set up an observation spell on it to keep track of the password. Ron wanted to make another trip to the kitchen but Harry had the feeling that they needed to get back to the common room, and since Hermione was always willing to be sensible about things, they made their way back to the territory of snakes. And just in time, too, for barely had they settled in, Hermione with a book and the boys with a game of chess, than Professor Snape entered and bid them upstairs for the feast. Harry was surprised they'd managed to time it so well. Seemed like his rash of bad luck might be coming to an end.  
    The other Slytherins gave them odd looks as they arrived, slightly damp from the rain, but didn't ask questions. Blaise rattled off sordid tales from his summer ("and they were roommates, could you believe it?") and Daphne provided gossip from all the balls and informal tea parties she had been to.  
   "Oh, and Midsummer Night was absolutely brilliant," Daphne continued, even as Blaise regaled Ron with a highly improbably story involving a platter of food and someones pet. "Hermione, do you think if I invited you next year you could come?"  
   "Perhaps," Hermione said. "What did you do?"  
   "Well, Midsummer Day is a time to work with the earth," Daphne said. "My family usually just plants something, this year we planted some pear trees. But Midsummer Night is even better! I'm not old enough for a lot of the rituals, but I get to watch."  
   "That's old magic," Ron said, Blaise finally realizing his audience wasn't paying attention. "Does your family keep the old ways, then?"  
   "Not really," Daphne admitted. "Only a few of them."  
   "Old ways?" Harry asked, but it was at this point in time that the new first years arrive and silence was granted. The hat sang, again, and Harry hummed along a bit. Not terribly good at coming up with new tunes, apparently, but the hat's voice was nice. Older students were passing notes back and forth. The magic of the Sorting wasn't one that could survive seven years of watching it happen.  
   Ron cheered loudly when his sister was sorted into Gryffindor and Harry and Hermione joined him. Ginny had been a ghost in the house the past few weeks, never quite fully there, as the nervousness of going to Hogwarts set in. Harry had worried about her in a vague kind of way, worrying that she might get stuck in a house without any of her siblings. After living at the Burrow practically all summer Harry wasn't quite sure how Ron had managed to be so nonchalant about going from so many siblings around to none at all.  
   Dumbledore stood and the chattering students fell silent, although Harry thought that was a bit much. It's not like the man had ever given a good speech before dinner, after all. And Harry felt somewhat vindicated when Dumbledore simply bade them to eat as food magically appeared on the table. Speeches were best given when your stomach was full.  
   "So, old ways?" Hermione prompted.  
   "You don't already know?" Daphne asked as she served herself some pasta. "Imagine that."  
   "I haven't had time to read the whole library," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Only most of it."  
   "Well, it's nothing too interesting," Daphne said. "Like what we did on Halloween. Old traditions, old ways of magic and stuff. A lot of muggleborns and their supporters are pushing for more modern, muggle-influenced traditions."  
   "Like what?" Harry asked. "Modern clothing?"  
   "For one," Blaise said. "Clothing, holidays, food--there's a lot that goes into being a traditional wizard."  
   "If you want lessons, just ask," Draco said. Everyone groaned and he just looked smug.  
   Harry turned back to his food, but thought it over. During the summer he hadn't thought twice about the Weasley's obvious use of muggle items and clothing, but seeing as how Ron's ears were almost as red as his hair it wasn't something to be mentioned. The other Slytherins were nice in (mostly) ignoring that he had no actual idea about most of wizarding culture.  
   Well. That was a problem for a later, when there wasn't treacle tart to be eaten and adventures to be talked about.

* * *

 

   It took them approximately five minutes to realize that Lockhart was perhaps the most useless human being they had ever seen.  
   Even Hermione, who had walked into their first Defense class with her well-read book out and ready to be signed, quickly gave up on the man. Right around the third time he started describing what he had been wearing while fighting a vampire most of the class was practically asleep. Of course, that's when he decided to release the pixies.  
   Harry would remember Draco's scream for the rest of his life. The boy had sounded like Dudley when he broke a toy. Harry had dived under a table, trying to avoid both the pixies and the general confusion, but it didn't quite work out. Instead, he had ended up locked into the classroom with about half of his class and three dozen annoyed pixies. Ron had escaped, as had Draco and several other students.  
   "Stun them!" Hermione shouted, holding her ground with Daphne in a corner.  
   "We don't know stunners yet!" Harry shouted, which drew the attention of several pixies to him. Panicking, he threw a book in their general direction and ran over to where Hermione was.  
   "For Christ's sake," Hermione said, and Harry gaped at her. She slashed her wand in an aggressive downward strike and shouted. "Stupefy!"  
   Several pixies hit the floor with all the force of cement ornaments.  
   Daphne laughed and then took a step forward, casting a shield as the pixies attacked their new foe. Harry raised his wand, not quite sure if he was needed or not. Across the classroom, the other students who had gotten locked in with them seemed to be holding their own, or at least not losing too badly.  
   "Stupefy!" Harry cast, hitting a few pixies of his own.  
   Hermione grinned at him and cast as well. Soon enough all of the pixies were stunned and shoved back into their cage. Hermione spitefully cast a locking charm on it that she doubted Lockhart could break.  
   "Well," Daphne said, looking around the room, "that's one way to start the year."  
   "Lockhart isn't worth the paper his books are printed on," Hermione said. "Unfortunately. I had hoped it would be an improvement from Quirrell."  
   "Hey, I learned at least one thing this class," Harry said.  
   "Really?" Hermione asked dryly. "How not to run a class?"  
   "Not to mess with you," Harry said, and Hermione laughed.  
   "I would have thought you already knew that," she said. "But it's nice to know you do now."  
   "Perhaps you'll be the first muggleborn duelling champion this century," Daphne said. "If you can throw a stunner like that, there's a chance."  
   "Duelling isn't quite what I have in mind," Hermione said. "Although it has its uses."  
   "All right, stop being terrifying," Harry complained. "We've got to run, we're almost late for Charms."  
   "Lead the way," Daphne said, and Harry took his cue to walk quickly away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time, my apologies. I'm alive and...sort of still writing this. I'm still planning on finishing at least this book, don't worry, but I can't promise when. I travel a lot for work and it's not conducive to getting side projects done in any sort of a timely manner.


	6. Chapter Six

   Detention for their 'escapade', as Snape had called it, wasn't too bad. Well, actually, it was exactly as horrible as expected, but it's not like Harry hadn't been ready for it. How Snape managed to already have a supply of unclean cauldrons and disgusting ingredients to prepare was beyond him, but then again, Harry didn't put it past the man to leave dirty cauldrons over the summer just in case. There were certainly some rather unpleasant solutions crusted in them that could have been there for years.   
   Snape seemed content to leave them alone both in class and outside of it, and Harry was glad for it. Despite the rocky start to the school year the three of them quickly settled in. The teachers seemed perfectly willing to curtail any misbehaviour before it could start by assigning more homework than ever before. Harry wasn't sure he would survive until seventh year at this rate, Voldemort aside--he'd woken up a few times in a panic, certain he had to write papers for classes that didn't exist.   
    Somehow Harry and Hermione had been adopted by the twins. The two pranksters seemed to always show up during study sessions almost as soon as they started, generally resulting in everyone at the table getting kicked out of the library. Hermione was livid and took to booking one of the private study rooms out of spite. Since Harry depended rather heavily on her being able to edit his papers, he abandoned Ron to his brothers' mercies and hid away with Hermione. Sometimes, though, he would follow the twins along on whatever harebrained scheme they had dreamed up. He found himself in old, abandoned parts of the castle more often than last year, as well as in possession of questionable items and potions ingredients.  
    And then there were the Quidditch trials.   
   Harry was determined to be on the Slytherin House team. Even at the Burrow he had craved flying, the old Cleansweeps giving him only a taste of it. He wanted the razor blade fear of falling, the perfect awareness of his body and the world around it. He'd spent an afternoon with Ron going through broom catalogues and, as September came to a close, parted with a rather large amount of money to buy himself a broom. It was delivered one morning by a rather large amount of owls and Harry quickly took it down to the pitch. He spent every free moment he could flying, desperate for the quiet and the rush. The Nimbus was light and responded well and he was glad he'd gone for it over the less flashy Cleansweeps and Comets. There was just something right about the sleek Nimbus that wasn't there with the old school brooms.  
   "Trying for the team, are you?" Draco asked, seeing Harry prepare to leave again one night. Harry had been skipping out on study group meetings as soon as he could and while Blaise and Daphne didn't say anything, Draco wasn't above being a petty bully.  
   "Some of us do have talents," Harry shot back. "Besides spending money, that is."  
   "I'm surprised, Potter," Draco replied. "Since looking at you it seems like you have neither talent nor money."  
   "Fight me," Harry said, which while not the wittiest of comebacks, certainly carried the right sentiment.  
   "One day," Draco promised. "If you're good."  
   Seething, Harry left to practice. Team tryouts were scheduled for the weekend before Halloween--a bit late to start with new players, but they were only looking for a new Seeker and a few reserves. Harry practiced drills for all the positions. He didn't really care what spot he played in so long as he played. The day of tryouts he barely managed to eat a few pieces of toast, didn't even respond to any of the verbal jabs Draco sent his way, and was down at the pitch long before anyone else was. He flew a few laps to calm his nerves and then changed out into clothing a bit better for flying, namely some slim-cut jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. Robes had a tendency to catch the wind and could be dangerous. He also cast a few charms on himself to help protect against broken bones and concussions. Mrs. Weasley had been quite adamant about not flying without them and now it was habit.   
   "Keen, aren't you?" Flint asked once he arrived, noticing Harry already doing drills. "Don't think it earns you any points. Go set these up over there." Flint handed Harry several wooden poles and gestured vaguely towards the other end of the pitch. "The blue markings, not the red."  
   Nodding, Harry accepted the bundle and went to go figure out what to do. It turned out there were blue and red circles on the pitch, roughly the size of a soup bowl, and Harry carefully placed the poles in the blue ones. They made a nice little slalom course for riders. Harry quickly returned to where Flint was now coralling the other Slytherins who had showed up to try out. More people had shown up than Harry had really thought would and it made his nerves even worse. Surprisingly, Draco hadn't turned up, although Harry really wasn't sure why. He had seen the way Draco looked at the Quidditch games and always seemed to be in the room when people were listening to games on the wireless.   
   The first thing Flint had them do was fly laps at a moderate speed. Surprisingly, several people were cut right after that--Harry hadn't thought it would be so brutal, but he supposed it made sense. The people who left didn't seem surprised or upset. A few had probably only tried out so they could tell their parents that they had tried. After that, they went through a set of increasingly difficult drills for Chasers and Keepers. Harry fumbled the Quaffle several times but made the cut on to the next round, which were for Seekers and Beaters. The slalom course was harder than expected. Especially when you had to dodge bludgers as well as make tight turns while going so fast your ability to react was practically down to zero.   
   At the end of it all it was Harry, a fourth year named Moon, and two fifth years, Wilkes and Silvano, who remained. Flint sent them on a few more laps and drills before snapping out positions. Moon was made reserve Keeper, with Wilkes and Silvano coming on as Chasers--and Harry, well. Harry would be Seeker.  
   "Don't make me regret it," Flint warned, sending Harry a rather dark look. "I know how many detentions you get. If you miss more than three practices all year you're off the team and I'll pull someone off reserve. Doesn't matter if you're the best flyer in the world and can beat Krum to the snitch."  
   "Yes, Captain," Harry said nervously, really unsure of what he had gotten himself into. His heart was still racing from the sheer anxiety of waiting to know if he made the cut.  
    Flint snorted. "Practices start next week. There'll be a timetable going out. I'll give you all forms for Quidditch gear at the same time; there's a fund through the school that pays for it. If you want anything fancier it comes out of your own pocket. Go clean up."  
   Harry was halfway back to the castle before it caught up with him: he had made it! The youngest Slytherin player on the team, and starting Seeker to boot! Suddenly giddy, he raced into the castle to find Ron and Hermione to tell them the news. He dragged them down to the kitchens, where the house elves were more than willing to supply them with food and pudding.   
   "This better not affect your grades," Hermione said, trying and failing to sound stern. It didn't help that she had a little bit of frosting on her nose.  
   "Do you think of nothing else?" Ron groaned, and Harry laughed.  
   "It's all right, I'm sure I'll manage somehow. Hopefully no professors are trying to kill me this year," Harry said.   
   "Good luck with that," Hermione said. "Between Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall it's a surprise you haven't disappeared yet."  
Harry shrugged, and the topic fell into classes and homework. Hermione was several chapters ahead of both boys--not surprising--and was trying to bully them into studying more, either with her or their study groups. Harry and Ron were of the opinion that while you were supposed to learn something at school, you were also supposed to have fun, so why bother so much?  
   "Oh," Harry said, suddenly remembering. "What are we doing for Halloween this year?"   
   "Not another fire," Hermione said. "Professor Snape would certainly catch us, especially after last time."  
   Ah, yes, last time, where their perfectly laid plans had been foiled by a troll. That had been quite disappointing.   
   "A hunt?" Ron offered, looking a bit queasy at the thought. "We can transfigure a fox? Right? Isn't that something we learned how to do?"  
   "Inanimate to animate transfiguration is quite hard," Hermione scoffed, "but I suppose we can try. It's going to be taught next term anyways, so it can't be that difficult."  
   "Try not to sound too happy about it," Harry said. "What if we set up a ward on the grounds, and had to catch the fox and turn it back? That way there's no, uh, actually killing something." Harry took a large sip from his glass of pumpkin juice to deter questions and resolutely did not think of Quirrell and the underground rooms and pain arcing through his skin--  
   "That should be doable," Hermione said. "A proximity ward, and maybe a charm on our fox? That way we can just shoot lithearend at it, and no guns, arrows, or knives are needed."  
   "I'll pretend I understood that," Harry said. "Ron?"  
   "Old English?" Ron hazarded.   
   Hermione sighed. "Yes, actually, it's a harmless little spell that shoots coloured light. We can charm the fox to--oh, we should go the library, I just saw some books on this--charm it to react to the light, and instead of having to catch it or kill it we can just play tag, basically."  
   "Do we get to ride out like the Wild Hunt?" Ron asked.   
   "I've never ridden a horse and I'm going to keep it that way," Harry said. Horses were rather terrifying. At least a broom didn't have a mind of its own. Hermione and Ron shot a few ideas back and forth, with Ron calling upon his own knowledge of traditions and Hermione referencing a large amount of books. Harry listened to them and finished his treacle tart, his mind on the Quidditch team and what practices would be like. "Shall we get Blaise and Daphne involved?"  
   "Oh, good idea," Hermione said. "And Daphne's little sister is here, too, so I suppose she'll want to join, and then we can have even numbers for once."  
   "Is that important?"  
   "Probably," Hermione said. "Everything's important in its own way."   
   Harry conceded the point and the trio finished their food. The house elves wouldn't let them go without pushing several more food items on them, so they left with quite a picnic lunch to have later. Hermione instantly set off for the library while Ron and Harry made a beeline for the flying pitch. Now that they weren't first years, they could fly without teachers around, and Harry had every intention of taking advantage of that. They had a week until Halloween and no doubt Hermione would give each of them an essay on what they needed to prepare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time around. I feel like I'm spending a lot of time tying up loose ends and setting the stage, but next chapter we'll really start the adventures.   
> I've been a captain on a Muggle Quidditch team and it's surprising how easily you can pick people out just by sending them on laps around the pitch. I imagine it would be easier when they're flying brooms and not just running.


	7. Chapter 7

    October was a rain-filled haze. Harry felt that the whole month was spent wet, tired, and cold, between classes and the drafty old castle and Quidditch practice out in the rain. The professors were back to burying them in homework now that September was over. Snape continued to be absolutely horrid in potions, a situation not helped by the exploding of several potions during more intricate lessons. Ron and Draco were constantly bickering, which meant that Harry was constantly breaking up their fights or picking sides, and Hermione seemed likelier to lock herself into the library than help. By the time Halloween arrived Harry was perfectly ready to run off into the woods and become a hermit.   
Halloween dawned bright and clear, if colder than it really should be. Harry supposed he should just be happy it hadn't snowed and left it at that. The Slytherin common room wasn't the warmest of places, despite all of the rugs and warming charms, and being outside in the weak autumn sunlight was an improvement. Hermione led the way around the Black Lake, past where they had lit the fire last year, and into a small grove of trees. It wasn't quite the Forbidden Forest, but it wasn't quite not, and it lent an air of rule-breaking to the day.  
   "All right," Hermione said, her voice at her tiredest and most bossy, "we have to be back inside for the feast, but other than that we're free. It's a Hogsmeade weekend so we only have to worry about our year and the first years finding us."  
   "First years won't come out this way," Ron said. "Too far, and too close to the woods. What do we have to do?"  
   Hermione set a small bundle onto the ground and tapped it. The cloth fell away to reveal her transfigured fox. It seemed caught between a toy and a living animal, as if it had wandered out of some child's dream. The fur was rather more like wood and its colouring was overly bright. It was beautiful.  
   "Good work, Granger," Blaise said, his tones approving. "Is it animated?"  
   "Obviously," Hermione scoffed. "Any more silly questions?"  
   Harry had a few, but everyone else was keeping quiet, and so he did as well.   
   Daphne finally arrived, half-carrying a rather large bag and bickering with her sister. Astoria had been insufferable for the past week as she was allowed to join them in planning the day's activities. The two girls dumped their baggage on the ground, where it clattered.   
   "Grab a stick, then," Daphne said. "And if any of you make a joke I'll hex you into next week."  
   Ron shut his mouth without saying anything and Harry snickered. Hermione gave them a _look_ and they all set to digging through the bag as Daphne and Astoria helped Hermione finish setting up.   
   "Do you know what a Morris Dance is?" Blaise asked, as Ron and Harry immediately started to fight each other. "You'll have to—you know what, close enough, just don't ask me to heal you if you take out an eye." The sticks were closer to quarter staffs than sticks, peeled of bark and sanded down. Daphne had supposedly snuck into the forest to collect them as well as the branches needed for their crowns this year.  
   "Deal. We can tell Madam Pomfrey it was a Quidditch injury," Harry said, and then turned to pull Blaise into the fray.   
   This turned out to be a mistake as Blaise had obviously had some weapons training and wasn't afraid to fight dirty. Ron and Harry ganged up against him and still ended up with the worst of it, while Daphne shouted some unflattering commentary from the sidelines. Hermione and Astoria finally finished setting everything up and promptly started sending mild hexes and jinxes at the boys to get their attention.  
   "Fine, fine, I yield!" Harry shouted, laughing as he got hit with another tickling jinx. Blaise and Ron had ended up wrestling in the dirt, jeering at each other with childish insults. "What more do you want?"  
   "For you idiots to pay attention for once in your whole life," Hermione said, but she released the jinx. The others brushed themselves off and arranged themselves in a small circle, with their transfigured (and currently stunned) fox in the middle. Hermione and Daphne handed out the crowns: rowan and ash, this year, with some oak for the boys.   
   "All right," Daphne started, "here's how it works: each of us picks a colour for our spells. Do your best to hit the fox and not hit anyone else. If anyone gets hit too much you'll have to sit out since your clothes will change colour."  
   "Dibs on green." Harry smirked as everyone shot him dirty looks. "What? It's my favourite colour."  
   "Yeah, sure." Blaise sniffed. "I'll take black, then.  
   "Red," called Ron, blushing slightly.  
   "Blue." Hermione snapped her wand sharply and briefly formed a small blue light at the end.  
   Daphne and Astoria looked at each other and made several interesting facial expressions at each other. Harry had noticed that Daphne was more open around her sister, more prone to teasing and expressing emotions. Eventually Daphne claimed yellow and Astoria took purple. They took a moment to practice casting their colours in various rocks and leaves around the clearing, making sure that the colour stayed on the object it hit and didn't waver between shades.  
   "We're ready," Hermione said, getting everyone's attention. "The fox will automatically stop moving once it's covered in colours, or at least it should. You need to use your sticks to keep everyone else away from you and the fox. Put it in your off hand. Only body shots, nothing to the head, don't knock out any teeth or eyes."  
   "Anything else?" Astoria asked. She was flushed with excitement, her pale robes and hair making the colour in her face stand out even more. For the past week she'd been absolutely insufferable as she was invited to join them.  
   "No serious injuries, please," Hermione said."  
   "No promises," Blaise quipped. "Anyway, let's start."  
   Hermione bullied them all into taking a few steps back from the fox and cast the spell to awaken it. For a moment nobody moved, not even the fox, and then the clearing was filled with sound and motion.  
   The fox lept into the trees, its bright-white tail flicking almost daringly at them. Ron and Harry collided into each other as they both took off and ended up scuffling on the ground, ignoring the fox in favour of wrestling. Daphne and Hermione were the quickest to the chase and Hermione won first hit, turning one paw a clear, brilliant blue.   
Ron and Harry sorted themselves out and joined the fray. Astoria was slightly too small to be much competition, the extra year and inches the rest of them had on her making it difficult to keep up. What she lacked in size she made up for in fierceness, though. Blaise swore as she cracked him against the back of the knees with her staff and he stumbled, his shot of colour going wide.  
   "Move!" Ron bellowed, running into Daphne. The animal darted out of the trees and between their legs and the children raced after it, whooping and yipping. The autumn air was cold in their lungs and they were young, so young, and hadn't forgotten the joy of running yet.  
   They wove between the trees, pale spectres of witches and wizards. The fox led a merry chase-first here, then there, and then slipping from their sight and hiding in the shadows. The sun burned off the morning fog and climbed steadily higher and still the fox ran, helplessly caught within Hermione's spells and yet still free. For all that the Forbidden Forest was a forest, this little corner of it was well groomed. Harry tripped over roots and Ron ran into trees almost as much as he ran into people, but the underbrush was barely there and only a few branches tugged at their robes. Magic swirled around them, the dying autumn world giving itself to the hunt. Harry felt as if he could run for days and not need rest. Blaise whooped, an undignified sound that captured the mad joy of such a chase.   
It was nearing to evening when they finally managed to completely colour the fox. Hermione shouted a word and the fox fell still, almost like an automaton winding down, going slower and slower until it finally came to a stop. Harry fell to the ground as the magic drained from him and Ron joined him, the two of them sweaty and tired.   
   "Daphne?" Hermione said, her voice breathless and tight. She was still standing although her legs trembled and her hair, sticking out from under her crown, was wild with wind and sweat.   
   "Yeah," Daphne said. They were all breathless and one-word answers were best at the moment. Daphne dug around in her sleeves for a moment, long belled things that were only fashionable if you were the most traditional type of pureblood. "Here."  
   Daphne shakily held out a small vial and Hermione took it, then stood over the fox. Harry sat up to watch. Hermione took a moment to breathe before speaking, her voice deepening with the magic she called upon. It was older than they were, older than Hogwarts was, and made the air sing with the taste of blood.  
   "Na saer en heimr, iambling. Hvefr vra, et godr ar." As she spoke she tipped the vial over, the liquid within running warm through the air to fall upont he wooden fox and the earth. "Drey ii a na saer, et skipta heill okkar i methal."  
   As she spoke the last word the magic faded, the warmth and life it brought to the clearing disipating. A moment ago they had been witches and wizards and perhaps something else, something there was no longer a word for in the common tongue. Now they were six young students who were incredibly tired, out of breath, and sweaty.  
   There was nothing to be done about it, though. Hermione had ended their ritual with the spilling of blood, carefully owl-ordered and kept. So they took a moment to rest and catch their breath in the dying afternoon light and then burned their crowns and staves. Blaise suggested throwing the fox on the fire as well--it was made of wood, after all--but Hermione wanted to keep it. The walk back to the castle was silent and tired.  
   Harry summoned enough energy to take a shower and change into robes that weren't covered in dirt and sweat. He barely had enough time to spell his hair dry, which left it even messier than normal, before they were all headed to the feast. Snape even made eye contact with them which was as good as a scolding. There would be no repeats of last year. The older students were chattering about Hogsmeade and its wonders and exams and who was dating whom, and none of them noticed the small knot of silent second years (plus Astoria) in their midst.  
   This did not mean that they went unnoticed.  
   "Did you stay up all night or something, Weasley?" Draco asked. "You're actually eating your food in a civilized manner. I can only imagine how tired you must be to slow down so far."  
   "Shove off, Malfoy," Ron muttered.   
   Harry snorted. The feast was amazing, even more so than he had imagined, and normally Ron would be shovelling food as fast as possible. Harry, too, although Ron was the messier eater. Their exhaustion meant that lifting utensils wasn't particularly easy. Fine motor skills were practically gone. Harry rather hoped that Draco didn't start anything, because they were in no shape for an argument.  
   "Pass the pumpkin juice," Blaise drawled. He sounded better, at least.  
   "What did you all do?" Draco asked. "Drink a sleep potion that was off?"  
   "None of your business," Harry said. "What did you do today?" The easiest way to distract Draco was to get him to talk about himself. Harry wasn't sure it would work this time, and yet Draco was more than happy to regal them with the minutiae of his day. That lasted long enough for most of the feast to pass and for their energy levels to even out abit. Harry still felt like he hadn't slept for several days, though.  
   The food was rich and plentiful and Harry was growing drowsier as he ate. The final course was pudding and candy, something the house elves had no doubt worked over all day. Hand made caramels and fudge were next to candied fruit and chocolate bark. It made Harry feel queasy just to look at it and he only grabbed a single slice of treacle tart. Draco, of course, had several things to say about that, and then returned to a boisterous comparison of Hogwarts and the Malfoy Manor. The boy could give Shakespeare a run for his money with how he monologued. Next to him, Daphne was make faces as Draco talked, instead of verbal commentary.  
   Finally the last of the food was cleared away. Dumbledore stood and dismissed them: no long speeches were to be had here. Harry wondered if Dumbledore was perhaps crowd-shy, like some of his classmates from muggle primary. They had always stammered through oral reports. Maybe Dumbledore was scared of giving speeches? He certainly avoided making them.  
Harry followed the rest of the Slytherins back to the dorms. The older students were having some kind of party and weren't particularly discreet about talking about it, but Snape didn't seem to care and Harry was too tired for their nonsense. His bed was practically screaming his name. He and Ron made their way to their dormitory, not speaking and taking the stairs slowly. Without speaking they went through their nightly routines and then fell into bed, full and warm and too tired to dream. The rest of the world could wait until tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im alive but writing this chapter was hell and there is no excuse. i rewrote it like five times and still hated it.   
> anyways i still have vague ideas to at least finish this book but probably not the series. thank u for all ur comments and kudos.   
> Hermione speaks very, very badly translated Old Norse. i don;t speak old norse and if u do first of all why and second of all i am sorry   
> Here's a really rough translation:   
> Blood, sea of the body, is on the earth, and a year is gone. Return to us, bringing a good year.   
> Blood to blood shares a blessing between us


End file.
